Benjamin Ascher and the Halls of the Phoenix
by what.you.want.to.hear
Summary: Twelve years after the Battle of Hogwarts, strange things have been occuring in America around the murdering of Muggle-borns. At the same time, a new school year is beginning for the Salem Academy. For a new group of children, all roads lead to Salem.
1. Chapter 1: Twenty Twenty One

Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the things created in Rowling's universe. This story however is of my own making. It takes place twelve years after the Battle of Hogwarts in an American wizarding school named the Salem Academy, located on an unseen island off the coast of New York with an entirely new cast of people unrelated to the original. Besides that, well you'll have to see. I'm posting both the prologue and the first chapter at the same time, and will be updating hopefully regularly. Enjoy and drop a review after you do.

Edit: Reposting the story so farafter reworking the first chapter and prologue.

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><p>Prologue<p>

_June 19th, 1996 – 15 years ago_

_London_

"I'm not going without the two of you!" The young witch was livid as she desperately protested her parents' completely lunatic decision. What they were asking of her was beyond ludicrous and she was not going to tolerate it! "If you want me to go to America, then both you and mother will be coming with me and staying there too!"

"This is not open for debate, Celeste! You are going there and you are going to stay there until **I **say it is safe to come back and that is final!" Benjamin Feroux's voice was as commanding as the man's presence as he stared down his almost fully-grown daughter while his wife scurried about the lavish appointed room packing the last of Celeste's things into a chest for the girl. His eyes and hair continuously shifted colors and designs as he glared at his precious but ever-so-impertinent little girl, his mind unable to focus long enough to keep his Metamorphmagus abilities in check thanks to the stress he was under. "I've known this whole year that Potter and Dumbledore weren't lying when they said that You Know Who is back. That buffoon Fudge tried to deny it but **HE IS BACK**! My daughter is not going to be anywhere near Europe while the monster is free again!"

"Mum, please talk some sense into him!" Celeste pleaded, turning her attention to her mother. "This is all nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense, Celeste. You were so young when He Who Must Not Be Named disappeared, only a mere three years old. You don't remember the kind of evil that took place in those years, the kind of horrors that monster perpetrated on both the muggle and wizarding worlds. If you did, you would know that what happened last night, what has been happening this whole last year is just the start of something horrible. And I am behind your father one hundred percent in his decision." Shrinking down the chest, Mary Feroux carefully handed it to her daughter before taking her place beside her husband.

"But why can't you come with me then? Surely Dumbledore will-"

"This conversation is over!" Benjamin roared. "Ascher, are you ready?"

"Everything is set, Mr. Feroux." The American said with hurried assurance masking his own worry. He was a younger man, just about Celeste's age, with a head of sandy blonde hair and warm green eyes. His name was Anthony Ascher, and for the better part of the last two years he had been Celeste's boyfriend. "I've just gotten done contacting my father; he's already with our friend inside the OMA and has the papers ready for us as soon as we apparate in to Washington. They have the marriage license, the wand registry, identity papers; everything."

"Good. Then you leave immediately."

"But dad-"

"But nothing!" Ben shouted furiously, his eyes and hair shifting to a fiery red as he did so. For a moment Celeste thought he might finally lose his temper but the man's face just softened as he gazed down into his daughter's worried eyes. "Celeste, I gave you and Anthony my blessing a year ago. This boy has always been a person I could trust with your safety; even from the day I met him. I would not do this if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that he is right for you. He cares enough to make sure are safe and secure in America so you will go with him today, do you understand? I would rather face a legion of Death Eaters knowing you are safe and secure on the other side of the world than risk your life when they come after me and your mother thanks to our loyalties to Dumbledore. When it is safe, when this is all over, trust me when I say that your mother and I will come to America for you and Anthony to welcome you back home personally… But until that time, please just do as I say."

"… I love you Celeste." With those final four words, the Feroux patriarch hugged her one last time before giving a swift nod to the Ascher boy. When the two of them were gone he and his wife would scrub their home of any link to their daughter and wait. Benjamin was not so niave to doubt that the Death Eaters would be here sooner or later and then...

Watching his daughter tearfully accept the boy's outstretched arm, Benjamin just mouthed two last words, these ones for the boy that was about to become his new son-in-law. They were a final request.

'Protect her.'

Anthony simply nodded, the gravity of the task set before him resting heavily upon him. With one last glance at them he apparated Celeste and himself away, bound for America.

/\

_Dear Willing Recipient,_

_On behalf of the Office of Wizarding Education, the Salem Academy of Magic and Sorcery is greatly honored to offer you the opportunities to harness, develop, and broaden your wizarding abilities and talents. As a result, you might find yourself excelling in the future, finding greater success through education, and reaching your full potential in the wizarding world beyond Salem's walls._

_With pleasure, Salem requests the favor of your reply to be received no later than July 31st, 2010 so that we may ready to welcome you for this new school year._

_Departure for the school will take place from Merlin's Gate at Pennsylvannia Station in New York City on the morning of September 2nd, 2010. The will depart the gate at 10:00 a.m. so please be prompt. Enclosed is a list of all necessary items and sundries you will need this year._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmistress Zofia Ardorum_

_The Salem Academy of Magic and Sorcery_

_\/_

Benjamin Ascher And The Halls of the Phoenix

Chapter 1: Twenty-Twenty One

If one were to look at the small, quiet little neighborhood of Coldwater on the outskirts of Olympia, Washington there was a good chance that they might remark how all of the quaint little homes seemed to be cut from the same mold. Each one of them was an older wood –paneled two story with the same shade of off-white paint that had slowly been eaten away from years of wet weather along the Hoh rainforest. Each one was rather uniform in this respect, having the same style porch along the front lined by a garden where a few measly flowers tried to take in whatever sunlight trickled down from the canopy of massive evergreens overhead. Each one was likewise occupied by the same style people: good mannered, generally hard working and quiet people who kept mostly to themselves save the few small pleasantries one might exchange during a trip to the garbage can at the curb or the mailbox in the afternoon. It was all so similar.

However, upon further inspection of the houses one might notice the tiniest peculiarity along the side of the mailbox of one of the houses in the group, the one belonging to twenty-twenty one Coldwater Way. Along the side of the rusted metal box with its white exterior and little black numbers, something had been seemingly cut into the metal. What this little piece of possible artwork was differed from person to person; some saw it as a bad attempt at a hummingbird while others would suggest a dragonfly that had gone awry. The owners of this house, twenty-twenty one, meanwhile would simply call it a snitch.

From the outside of twenty-twenty one nothing was amiss, nothing too seemingly out of the ordinary for anyone to suspect some deep secret about the young couple that lived there with their one son. Yet stepping inside, there was something about the house that seemed not quite right. Though the outer walls contained presumably the same space that every other house along the street had, once inside it seemed as though the innards of the curious beast known as twenty-twenty one had been replaced with those belonging to a much bigger monster. The rooms were deceptively larger than they should be, the entryway seemed to stretch on beyond all belief, and even the staircase was seemingly triply stretched along its widths when compared to the other houses along the street. Then if one were to look even closer, one might begin to notice the peculiarities that had made themselves commonplace within twenty-twenty one. All along the walls, the portraits of family and friends seemed alive, as though the subjects in each picture were living entities trapped within the confines of the numerous golden frames that lined the hallways. Some seemed to just stand there and fidget under a passerby's gaze; some simply went about their daily routines; and some moved about and seemed to go converse with the members of other portraits close-by as though this behavior were quite acceptable for a portrait.

Yet stepping further into the depths of twenty-twenty one, the casual observer might ignore the television in the living room and instead take note of the fireplace, a rather ornately carved black marble wonder that stood as high as the wall it rested against and deep enough that one might be capable of parking a small car inside its spacious stone insides. All along the marble were reliefs of various people carved into the stone that seemed to move to and fro whenever no attention was focused on them. At the center of the monstrosity a blaze continuously burned, endlessly consuming the same set of a dozen or so logs yet even so its feeble heat could only be felt by those who dared to stand almost directly beside it.

Moving past the living room from the front door, the spectator might behold the two slumbering furred creatures that often-times laid about in the middle of the main hall, noting perhaps that they must have been some breed of dog that one was simply not familiar with instead of noticing the distinctly lupine jaws and ice blue eyes. Maybe they were both some breed of husky? No, one would think they were much too large for something so mundane; the black, white and gray fur that covered their bodies more regal than that of a common dog, the seemingly naturally red markings around their eyes too out of place. But if the observer watched the two twin animals long enough, they might just be lucky enough to see way the two beasts seemed to interact with each other with decidedly more intelligence and more… humanity… that one would expect to find in a normal household pet.

Then there was the study, a rather gargantuan room that stretched upwards well beyond the limits of what the natural ceiling should have been. The furnishings simple enough: a classic hardwood desk with a worn black leather chair with its back to the one window behind it. The walls would garner attention though as they were covered from the hardwood floor to the impossibly tall ceiling with bookshelves filled with thousands upon thousands of books, each one an ancient leather-bound tome that seemed in impeccable condition without so much as a speck of dust to be found on them. Upon deeper scrutiny one might find the titles and authors of these olden volumes pure nonsense like Zeus V. Akakios' greatest work: "On The Study of Acromantulas: The Wondrous Spiders and Where to Find Them"; or perhaps Leuthar Lutgardis' seminal book of interspecies love poetry "Ode to my Giant".

Yet even if one could overlook all the aberrant abnormalities that seemed to dwell within twenty-twenty one, there was final little curiosity that could not be ignored. Unlike the rest of the house though, this was not a what but rather a who; and the who was the husband and wife that dwelt there with their eleven-year-old son Benjamin.

(I)

_July 21st, 2010_

_7:00 a.m._

"Benny! Time to get up!" The voice was loud; loud and very shrill. It was feminine with a marked southern English accent that even fifteen years spent in the states could not destroy, as though it were a banshee that hailed from the Thames. It tore through the calm atmosphere of the early morning like a knife, effectively killing whatever peace the residents of the house and their nearest neighbors might have been enjoying. More importantly though, it woke **him** up from what he could have defined as the best dream he had had in his short life.

"Ugh…" Ben murmured, not even caring to use a coherent word at this ungodly early hour of the morning as he kept his eyes firmly closed in a desperate attempt to stay at least partially asleep. He knew it was a futile effort to try; it was always a futile effort when she was calling for him but he just couldn't muster the drive to force himself to open his eyes so he just lay there, praying she wouldn't call him again.

"Apollo, Artemis; get him up." The voice called again, this time to the other two members of the family that were currently home.

'**Crap.'** He thought sullenly, still refusing to peek open even one eye to the blinding morning sun that would be shining through his window by now. He hated when she sent them up here this early in the morning; was thirty extra minutes of wondrous sleep too much to ask for? It was summer! But already he could hear their muffled steps through the walls as the two of them made their way up the gargantuan stairwell that curved throughout the house to the upper landing where his bedroom waited. They moved quietly as only they could, like two hunters quietly stalking their prey. Within a few seconds he heard the distinctive creak of his door being nudged open before they carefully stepped inside and onto the hardwood floor at the base of his bed.

"I know you're awake, Ben. I can hear your heart racing." That was Apollo, the older and the leader between the two of them. Unlike his sister, Apollo was always a bit gruffer and more straight-forward; he was just a bit too tightly wound at all points of the day to be much fun to the young boy. "You heard what your mother said; it's time to get up."

"No…" He moaned slowly, still keeping his eyes tightly shut in protest to this most unreasonable of orders.

"Very well;" The female, Artemis, replied. A moment later Ben felt the weight drop onto the foot of his bed as she jumped up on to it. With grace and a lithe step she confidently strode across the bed until she was right over top of him, keeping her body off of his but using her legs to pin the comforter securely to his sides. He knew what she was about to do, it was what she always did whenever she was sent up to wake him up. He knew it and utterly hated it but he refused to give up on his vain and pointless crusade for a little more rest. So, with all the nerve he could muster, the young boy just braced himself as she carefully bent down over him and… began to lick his face.

"UGH! Okay; I'm up, I'm up!" Ben spat out, his eyes shooting open to the pupil-burning sunlight that was filtering through his window as he pushed the female dire wolf off of him. With the best smile that a wolf could muster she just chuckled heartily as she stepped back and set down on her haunches at his feet while he sat up. "Do you have to do that every single time you wake me up, Artemis?" He asked, staring down at the wolf. She was far larger than a normal creature just like her brother was, with gray and white fur across her body but a jet black snout and a pair of ice blue eyes that glowed on the darkest nights. Her brother Apollo shared a lot of the same features save for the red striations around her snout running up and around her eyes that were distinctive to her.

"Be glad I stopped as quickly as I did, young pup." She replied with a throaty laugh. Compared to her twin brother she was a playful little creature. "You taste so good today that I was starting to get hungry. Too bad, you'd make such a perfect little treat for breakfast."

"And that makes it okay how? I'm not a buffet." Ben responded, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he finally just accepted the fact that he was not returning to sleep. Apollo and Artemis were his father's familiars; they were a pair of dire wolves that the elder Ascher male had magically bonded with back during his own school days twenty years back. Like most of the familiars, they were a different than normal animals in that they were uniquely bonded to his family line until the day they died. And then there was the talking. His Dad still had never explained how they came to be so… social; but it was a rare trait indeed as most animal familiars were aware and intelligent but incapable of speech.

"Good question; ask me again when I've had a full stomach." Artemis cheerfully chuckled as she rose back up and dropped from the bed, taking her place beside her brother.

"Enough of this foolishness…" Apollo was always such a boring little creature Ben thought, a real downer of sorts. "Ben, your mother wants you clean, dressed and downstairs in fifteen minutes for breakfast. Understand?"

"Sir yes sir!" The preadolescent boy retorted with a mock salute, eliciting another vigorous round of laughter from Artemis. Apollo meanwhile only growled, narrowing his eyes at the young boy for a moment before turning away and leaving the room.

Once the wolves had left he finally forced himself out of the bed and onto his feet. After a deep stretch, he casually shed the pajamas he had slept in and made his way to the bathroom on the far side of his room and away from the rays of golden evil that shined mercilessly into his room. The room, like the others in the house, was much larger than the exterior let on. It was a marvel his dad had designed and his mother had enchanted for him. On the left side was a hardwood floor that led up two steps to the raised platform his bed rested on as well the large bay window that lit up his room. The right half meanwhile was more keeping in with the true nature of the house as the hardwood was gone and replaced with what appeared to be a small field of grass that led to his bathroom and closet, lined on either side by the trunks of two oak trees that seemed to be carved out of the very walls themselves as they reached to the ceiling. His mother called it the Meadow.

As he stepped into the bathroom, he was greeted by an unfamiliar reflection in the mirror.

Instead of his short cut naturally sandy blonde hair and radiant green eyes – traits which he shared with his dad – there was a mess of jet black hair cascading down his back and around his shoulders like a lion's mane coupled with a pair of warm hazel pupils. With a grimace he forced himself to concentrate long enough and imagine them as they should be to make them change back to their proper color. The young eleven-year-old was a Metamorphmagus like his grandfather was and had been capable of changing his appearance for nearly three years n0w so these changes were quite normal for him. However, he was never too thrilled when his features changed on their own like they did usually three or four times a day; it was part of the reason his mother had kept him from going to a proper school before this year. After all, they couldn't explain the reason why they changed like that to a normal Muggle nor could they risk another child running off and causing a panic when they told their parents what they saw in class. Quite frankly, it was one of the reasons Ben couldn't wait until September 2nd rolled around. Come that day, he would finally enroll in his true school: The Salem Academy.

Smiling in approval once his appearance had normalized; he quickly discarded his clothing from the night before and climbed into the shower. As he let the warm water rinse over him the last of his grogginess quickly washed down the drain with whatever sweat he may have had while he slept. Unlike most boys his age, Ben took a certain pleasure from being clean and would oftentimes take two or even three such washes a day just to stay that way. He didn't know why; he just liked the feeling of knowing he was dirt free.

A few minutes later, clean as a whistle and dressed in a t-shirt and pair of jeans appropriate for a summer day in Washington, he made his way out of his room and downstairs. From the stairwell he could hear voices coming from the kitchen, one belonging to his mother talking to a male that was unmistakably his father but was accompanied by the sound of a lot of movement. Ben had come to recognize that background noise as the sounds of the people at his dad's work in the Auror department at the Office of Magical Affairs. Whenever his mom talked to him during the day over the Floo network via the fireplace he had in his personal office, that shuffling sound was almost always present. Deciding to let them finish their conversation first, Ben just sat down at the foot of the stairs and listened in a little.

"I don't know what to tell you, Cel;" His father said in the casual tone that he often spoke with. "I know I told you we'd be able to do a family night tonight but with this latest development I'm probably going to be here all night."

"Is it them again?" That was his mother, piquing Ben's eleven-year-old curiosity. His dad never really talked about work to him, having told him once that he was just working to 'try and keep the family safe' but that the boy was too young to really know what it meant. Ben knew that he hunted down dark wizards and investigated crimes in the wizarding world; he had watched enough CSI with his parents to know what a detective was and that his dad was the magical equivalent of one. Outside of that though, they had tried to shield him from anything else so this was a rather rare opportunity for the boy.

"We think so. Another couple was found last night, this time in Adel's Fall over in upstate New York… The Secretary had Magister Vance put a media blackout on this for the time being to keep from inciting a possible panic but it's only a matter of time before someone leaks the story to the W.T. or one of the other papers." Anthony Ascher responded with what sounded like straight weariness from where Ben was sitting. The boy had met Magister Regulus Vance – his father and the other Aurors' boss – a few times when his dad had had him over from a dinner or something along those lines. He was a scary looking wizard with a set of scars along his jaw from a fight with a werewolf that stopped right beneath the pair of horn-rimmed glasses he wore. "I-I've gotta admit that these monsters are a little past what I can tolerate, Cel. The things they do to these people before they kill them… it's terrifying. And then it gets even worse after the poor souls die. And then there's that damned mark they leave behind."

"Do you think that the people behind this might be related to…?"

"We thought they might be but there's just no evidence to link them with the… them. We don't know for certain though; with blood purists like these you never know where their loyalties might have laid over the years. However, the mark they're leaving isn't like the Dark Mark was. I really don't want to go into details about it though. Listen honey, I've got to go. Vance wants us gathered for a debriefing in ten minutes."

"All for the best I suppose. Benny will be down for breakfast any minute now." His mother finished, her tone having grown weary and worried as well. "Listen; take care of yourself tonight, Tony. I…"

"I know Cel. I love you too." With those words, the background noise died meaning that the connection had been terminated.

Ben sat there silently for a moment, wondering just what was going on that his parents weren't telling him. He had heard of the Dark Mark before; his mother told him about it about two years ago after he had heard someone mention a dark wizard named Voldemort. She had told him that the man had almost taken over England twice and that his followers – the Death Eaters – flew a mark shaped like a skull with a snake slithering through it over the houses of their victims to let the rest of the world know. She had also told him that the Death Eaters were the reason why he had never met her parents, his grandfather and grandmother. According to her, they had sent her away when Voldemort came back four years before he was born to live with his dad and that was the only reason why she was still alive today while they died long before he was born. Ben often wondered what they would have been like, especially the granddad that he was named for. Maybe the man could have taught him some nifty trick with his Metamorphmagus abilities or taught him the kind of dangerous things that his mom and dad tried to keep him away from like how to really play Quidditch or hunt for Bowtruckles. However, it was all rather irrelevant now.

After a long moment he finally climbed up off the stairwell and made his way into the kitchen. His mom was silently preparing some breakfast for the two of them while Apollo and Artemis were both working over a pair of bones beside the table. As he entered Artemis looked up at him with a telling look; the two wolves would have heard him come down the stairs of course but if they weren't going to say anything to his mom about his little case of eavesdropping then neither was he.

"And there he is. I was wondering when you were going to finally get down here." Celeste Ascher said with a smile as her son took his seat at the breakfast table. At those words Apollo likewise cast a very telling look at the boy, as though accusing him silently through his intensely focused stare. "Sleep well Benny?"

"Yup;" Was his simple reply. He didn't know what he should talk about with her given what he had just heard. Certainly not what his parents were discussing, that was for sure. But beside that, he was at a loss of just what he was supposed to say.

"Good to hear it. Now, I think today we should head into town for a little while and maybe just stroll around for a while. Maybe even go to that park over near Delaney's shop that you like so much." He nodded, trying to casually avoid his mom's eyes as Artemis strolled over the table and brushed against his hand. The wolf waited patiently for him to pet her for a moment while his mother brought over two plates of food for both of them and sat down. Celeste Ascher was a shorter woman with a head of raven black hair that fell in a bob around her heart-shaped face as well as exceptionally dark eyes. It all served to make her seem to just blend in with the shadows, something that kept very well with her usually subdued demeanor. Unlike her husband she was not a very loud or excitable person but rather one generally at peace. "Now, unfortunately your dad's going to be late getting home tonight but maybe we'll just stay in the city all day."

"Sounds like fun mom;" He said, flashing a smile while taking a bite of the pancakes she had made and scratching Artemis' ears with his free hand. The wolf quietly set down on her haunches there next to him, noiselessly resting while he stroked the black fur that ran between her two perked up ears. Neither her nor her brother spoke much during a conversation between humans unless they were addressed directly, preferring to keep their opinions to themselves more often than not.

"Great. By the way, I talked to your father earlier today and he thinks that tomorrow is going to be a good day." That got Ben's attention a little more fully.

"... A good day for what?"

"Well we were talking and we both agree tomorrow we're going to take you down to Edea's Landing and finally get your school shopping done." The words had barely left her mouth before he was already out of his chair and hugging her tightly, thanking her excitedly as she smiled at her son's cheeriness. He had waited and waited and waited for this day for the better part of the last four months since his letter to Salem had come in the mail and now within the next thirty or so hours he would finally have his own wand!

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><p>Author's Note: Well there you go, the first official chapter. This thing has been in development for quite a while so drop a review. I'm excited to see what people think of it.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy And The Feather

Author's Note: Well I am back with chapter 2. This and chapter three are actually two parts of the same gigantic chapter that I ended up breaking up just so that it wouldn't be nearly twenty pages long for me to type. They both will deal with Ben's school-shopping at the American equivalent of Daigon Alley. Anyways, now that this is finished, it's bedtime. Ciao.

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><p>Chapter 2: The Boy and the Bottled Feather<p>

Near the edge of the District of Columbia, hidden in the ancient trees atop the Seneca rocks and kept safe from prying Muggle eyes by a myriad of protective enchantments and charms sets the one true capital of American magic. It has become hub of the American wizarding world: wide cobblestone streets lined by old stone houses and shops kept still relatively new in appearance by the will and talents of their individual owners. In this village, the necessities of the wizarding life are found along with other odds and ends that one might need or desire in their lifetime along with enough good company to keep even the loneliest witch or wizard satisfied. This cozy town is simply known as Edea's Landing, after the young witch who first settled it more than two hundred years ago. And it is here that all of the students of the Salem Academy will travel before they finally head off for their first year of school.

_July 22nd, 2010_

_Edea's Landing – 10:15 a.m._

"Come on! Please, please, please!" Ben pleaded desperately with them as his father held open the door that led out to the broad street that curved through the center of Edea's Landing, hoping just this once to get some sort of leeway with them and have some fun himself. The street itself was all hustle and bustle this afternoon with numerous other parents taking their children out school shopping as well as the random witches and wizards who were just out and about in the cool morning air. He had been dreaming about today and part of that dream was that he would get to go off just this once and join that crowd by himself so he wasn't going to let this one go. "I swear I'll behave, honest!" They were exiting Morgana Le Fay's, the restaurant and inn that served as the primary way-station for the small village. It was a larger place compared to the rest of the town, about forty rooms to house whoever decided to stay awhile along with a traveler's hub room with numerous fireplaces lining the walls to accommodate the Floo network as needed. The place was owned and ran by one Morgan "Le Fay" Kriswalt, a capable and kind old witch so ancient in her years that people seemed to think had been there as long as the town had.

"I think I'll leave this one up to you, Cel." Anthony Ascher responded, a little overwhelmed by his son's begging. The years since Anthony had taken his wife to America had been kind to the now middle-aged wizard. He was taller than most and still as lanky as the day they had fled London, the boyish face and radiant green eyes having grown ever-so-slightly wrinkled from the stress that came with raising a child.

"Of course you would…" Celeste responded almost sarcastically, shooting her husband a rather exasperated look which sent a cold shudder up the man's spine. He knew his wife loved him dearly but she could easily be scary when she wanted. Forcing her face to soften, she simply turned back to her son. "What exactly do you want to do, Benny?"

"I just want to walk around for a while. Every time we've come here I've had to stay with you two and I'm entering Salem this year so I think I'm old enough to walk around freely." He reasoned with them, the almost manipulative smile that every child had when trying the same ploy with their parents rising on his eager cheeks. Ben had seen plenty of other kids walking around freely last time he had come here with his Mom so why shouldn't he have the same privilege this time around? "I promise I won't cause any trouble and I'll come back real soon; I just want to go explore. Please?" At those words Celeste gazed sideways at her husband, rolling her eyes slightly at her son's choice of tactics. Ben was a lot like his father in more ways than one and this was just another example as Anthony had been known to beseech her for her stamp of approval on certain things before doing them. He had learned early on to keep his wife happy, she thought with an inward smile. Though she was just a small British woman, her fury could have scared the fangs off a basilisk when properly roused.

Finally, she just gave in and sighed, smirking. "You can go off for one hour. Only one hour;" She replied, her son's face instantly lighting up as his eyes grew a bright shade of yellow like a painted sun. "When that hour is up I want you standing next to me and your father inside Scribbled so we can get your textbooks. Understand?" Ben nodded so eagerly the woman thought her son's head might fly off from the speed of it. "Good. Then go have fun."

He had taken off down the street before she even finished talking, the broadest smile on his face as he nimbly dodged in between the throngs of people moving to and fro all across Centra Avenue, the cobblestone main-street of the village. From beside her, Anthony slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tight, a warm grin lighting his boyish face as he watched his son disappear into the crowd. "He's got your energy, you know." He murmured almost with a purr in her ear.

"But he's ever so like you, Tony. He reminds me of that night at the World Cup;" His wife spoke reminiscently, talking about the night that they had first met before frowning ever so slightly. "…It's going to be a long year without him…"

"I know, Cel. I know." He responded as he hugged her tighter. "But it's his time."

(I)

Ben felt like dancing as he peeked into the windows up and down Centra Avenue with the kind of vigor and excitement that only a child can seem to muster. This was an adventure to him, a brand new experience that seemed to tie together his whole feeling for the trip today.

As he pushed through the crowd, he could not help but marvel at the wonder of it all. Edea's Landing was abuzz with numerous wizards and witches strolling to and fro across the old cobblestone main street; going through such shops as Zephyr and Zips Broomstick Bazaar, Scribbled Pages – the bookstore, the Witches' Brew Potionery, the Black Cat – a favorite for pet adoption, Dr. Calgori's Wandarium and the infamous Oz Toystore in addition to who knows how many other shops and buildings across the small town. He wanted to explore it all; his dream for the day to do nothing more than to see the innards of every shop and boutique along each street and alleyway throughout Edea's. However, before anything else, he wanted something to drink.

Walking further down the street, he found a small coffee-shop of old brick and mortar along the way.

"Caffeinated Magic. Hmm… maybe they have orange juice." He thought aloud as he fumbled around in his pocket, making sure he still had the few knuts and a sickle that his mom had given him earlier in the morning so he could have a little bit of pocket change before entering the café. Pushing open the door he strolled inside and into the crowd of people standing around within the building, quickly buying a bottle of juice from the cashier before turning to see what everyone was so focused on. Save the cashier they were all staring intently at the television that hung over the main counter, hanging on the words of a well-groomed wizard with perfect trimmed hair in a pinstripe suit sitting underneath artificial lighting and reading from a teleprompter. The man was a reporter for the one wizarding-based news network in the states, the M.I.N.; and as of that moment the story that he was relaying to the public seemed to be one that had captivated the attention of the whole coffee shop.

Ben quickly scampered over to the only empty corner of the room to hear what the man had to say, finding some space next to a rather small girl around about his age with narrowed coffee eyes under a head of long, curly red hair and a look of rather smug approval on her thin pursed lips.

"As reported earlier, our source inside the Office of Magical Affairs has confirmed rumors of a series of violent murders that have been occurring throughout the country. Within the last six weeks, twelve muggle-born wizards and witches have been killed in a sequence of brutal attacks." He spoke with distinction and focus, his words as grave as a eulogist's. "Though nothing substantial has been released, an anonymous informant inside the Aurors' office stated that there were a series of symbols painted along the walls of each crime scene along with the word 'Sanctius', , possibly the markings and name of as of yet unheard of blood purist group. While rumor runs rampant as to just who is behind these heinous crimes, one can only wonder if we are indeed seeing the beginnings of another group of dark wizards rising into public awareness and whether or not they have a 'Grimoire' among their ranks."

Grimoire… Benjamin had heard that word before in one of his father's books. After the last wizarding war – having taken place between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix – the historians had come up with the term to label particularly powerful dark wizards who usually rose to the forefront of their group. Lord Voldemort was such a wizard, as was Gellert Grindelwald before him and the infamous Dante "Wicked" Wickerton here in America back after the Civil War.

"Stay tuned to M. I. N. for further details as this story unfolds. For now, I'm Thomas Traverse; signing off."

"Serves them right. Filthy mudbloods." The voice sounded so innocently adolescent he nearly spat up the juice he was sipping on when he heard the words it spoke. It came from the girl standing next to him, the almost pixie-sized redhead with the pursed lips. "But of course, the corrupt muggle-loving OMA will label whoever is doing it as terrorists and the like. Am I right?"

Young Benjamin had never heard such… strong words in his life. He could not help but turn his attention to the girl beside him from whom the hate had spewed forth. "Umm… Excuse me?" Was all he could muster, keeping his tone flat and emotionless in an effort to keep from starting a fight.

"Oh yes of course, where are my manners?" The girl responded with such cheeriness opposite to the condescension and malice that he had just heard that Ben silently wondered if she might have been somewhat loose in the head. With the broadest smile capable with her thin lips she turned to face him, her pixie-like features lighting up as she did so. "Sorry, Oriana Saint; of the Connecticut Saints." She spoke with distinction and the inherent air of self-importance that most rich pureblood kids seemed to Ben to have.

He didn't know who the Connecticut Saints were nor did he really feel the need to ask the girl all about her apparently special heritage so he just murmured his own name. To be honest though he felt like she might dirty it just by saying it with the same lips that had just spoke such cruelty. "Ascher… Ben."

She curtsied politely in keeping with the duality of her nature to him before turning her attention back to the screen which had since gone back to a midday talk-show instead of the news. "I was saying it's a shame that those… 'Sanctius' people will inevitably be hated for this. Mudbloods don't belong in wizarding world; they should stick with their own kind. My father told me once that they are diluting our very heritage by even existing. You understand don't you?" Ben didn't even get a chance to refute her statement before she pressed on, keeping the conversation as one-sided as he imagined possible. Already he knew one thing about this Oriana Saint: he didn't like her. Not one bit. "Of course you do. You don't have the lost look like those pathetic muggle-born vermin that wander around like chickens with their heads cut off the first time they step foot in Edea's with their little OMA escorts… Mudbloods. Beh. Anyway, I take it you're here for school-shopping?"

"…Yeah." He replied, his young voice hiding the disgust he held for her for her showing such open support for people just like the Death Eaters.

"First year then I assume… Just like me." She responded smiling warmly. "Well then hopefully we'll end up in the same house. Only a one-in-three chance of that though I suppose. But it is good for the likeminded to stick together. Don't you agree?"

"Oriana!" Called a voice from the other side of the crowd. Ben and the curly-headed girl both turned simultaneously to see a well-dressed, prim-looking witch calling from near the doorway of the café. She had gaunt face with cheekbones that protruded quite noticeably and a general sneer on her face that seemed to fit the whole package giving her an air of apparent superiority. Coupled with the same curly red hair there was no doubt this was the girl's mother.

"Coming!" She replied with a wave to the similar looking woman. "That would be my mother. Well it was a pleasure to meet you… Ben was it?"

He nodded curtly. The boy definitely didn't share the sentiment. With the slightest of curtsies she turned and immediately bee-lined her way over to the skeletal woman over at the doorway. He didn't know what was in store for him when he finally reached Salem in almost a month and a half and was sorted into one of the three great houses of the school but whatever it was he could only hope that it had nothing to do with her. That much he was certain about. Watching her leave, he quickly finished his juice he quickly left the building, wisely deciding to explore in the opposite direction that the Saints were walking.

Ten minutes later he had effectively strolled out of the main thoroughfare of Centra Avenue and found himself wandering a small back street simply called Kazas Alleyway that meandered hidden between a few of the older shops and another part of the neighborhood that surrounded the main street.

The boy was wandering freely now exploring every nook and cranny that he could without any of the traffic that one might find in the heart of the village as this street was almost empty, the shops and houses seemingly desiring their privacy. These were shops devoted to the dark arts or any other oddity someone in the magical community might be searching for. Though Ben knew his parents would probably kill him if they knew he was exploring this part of the town a part of him just wanted to see it all today. He was utterly interested in each and every building in the village.

As he drifted down the street with a curious smile on his face a sign caught his eye up ahead on the right. It was hanging over a doorway of a rather non-descript looking building of worn brick and faded white trim. The sign itself was nothing important, just a simple wooden slab hanging down like the rest along the street. However, what caught his attention was what was on it: a simple little magical painting of a white tiger-striped cat standing on its own head before it reattached it then detached again and repeated the process. The face of the cat was even upside down in relation to how its head sat, as though it were watching its moronic body trying to balance atop it. It smiled a distinctly evil yet cheery grin whenever its feet would once again climb atop its head, amused apparently by the whole spectacle in the worst possible way. Underneath the rather macabre painting a single word was written cursively in a shimmering gold paint that seemed brand new in comparison to the rest of the place. It said "Chessur's".

With a giddy sort of excitement rising in him he moved toward the store almost unconsciously until he was at the door. The windows and doorway were blacked out to the point that he could just barely see the outlines of a main counter inside even when he pressed his head against the glass. Of course this did nothing but intrigue him even more. Casting one last look down both sides of the alleyway in case anyone might have been looking, he carefully pushed the door in and stepped into Chessur's.

Even the peculiar sign hanging outside could not have prepared the boy for the… weirdness inside the store. Unlike most of the stores along Kazas Alleyway which delved wholly into dark magic and nothing else, Chessur's was a beast of an entirely different color. The inside of the relatively small shop was lined with shelved walls with what must have been just about every weird knick-knack and fetish throughout the wizarding world. Along the top shelf to his left were three and four-headed skeletons belonging to what he assumed must have been baby hydras. On the shelf beneath them, a few shimmering silver cloaks were folded up, presumably invisibility cloaks he believed. Underneath them were a series of steel flasks, each with a different gemstone set in the center of it and a label underneath saying what the potion inside was from Polyjuice to a few containing Draught of Living Death . Another shelf had what looked like goblin-made armor, another with an hourglass containing red sand that swirled upwards instead of down; lunascopes, penknifes, odd-looking quills and pocket watches. It seemed that literally anything and everything that could pique one's interest was on the walls of the shop.

"Hello?" He called, listening intently for any sort of reply. The shop was still and silent as he stepped further inside and let the door close fully behind him. "Anyone home?"

From the ceiling hung broomsticks with twisted, knotted handles and burnt bristles that seemed to have survived some truly traumatic experiences while at his feet the sides of an ancient Persian rug flittered about, probably an old flying carpet like the ones still used in the middle east he supposed. Along the counter where the ancient-looking register sat was a miniscule white-scaled snake inside of a cage with a small ball of fire burning over it to keep it warm. Behind it a thick red satin curtain hung from the ceiling, presumably leading to a backroom of some sort. He could not help but wonder how the owner of the shop came about all of these oddities and where they might have all come from. There were a thousand different things lining the walls and in the etched glass counter, each one of them a story unto itself. It was astounding.

As his gaze swept from the left of the store to the right, he carefully took in what he saw as his mind made mental notes of what he wanted to discover a little more thoroughly. However, that was when it caught his eye. Along the right side of the room about eye level with him, nestled between a heavily rusted iron choker and a row of vials of Salamander blood, was the most unusual little thing he had ever seen: a radiant black feather. It was almost as long as an eagle's feather and so black it very nearly blended in with the shadow behind it and the rest of the artifacts on the shelf. It had been placed inside a clear glass bottle and stood upright on its quill, turning slowly round and round inside the bottle as though it were the pirouetting dancer from an antique music-box. Even with its jet black color the feather seemed to shine and shimmer as it twirled about slowly. The sides of the down appeared to radiate a barely noticeable pulse of violet at irregular intervals like the dancing of a flame. Ben had never seen anything so wondrous… so mesmerizing. He was bewitched, drawn to it by purest gravity. Stepping closer and closer and leaned in towards it until his face was mere inches from the bottle. From close he could see little sparks of blue shimmering in the violet glow surrounding the feather like a thousand mirrors dancing under an azure sun.

"See something you like?" The lilting Welsh voice behind his ear made him nearly jump out of his skin as he shot straight up.

Whipping around, he found himself face to face with a scruffy, unkempt looking man in his early thirties. He was bending forward until he was almost eye-level with Ben, his pale hazel eyes seeming to search out the boy by sheer process of memorizing all of his features. The man had the widest smile on his thin face too; a toothy grin that seemed less than threatening but more than happy as though his mouth was desperately trying to show its cheeriness at having someone to talk to besides its owner. Ben was unnerved by him but oddly enough didn't feel like the man bore him any ill will but was rather just intrigued.

"U-um… I'm sorry!" Ben said quickly, turning to move toward the door. The man held up his hand as though to stop him, the toothy grin growing ever so slightly wider.

As Ben stopped he straightened up fully, allowing Ben to really get a good look at him. The man was taller than most, easily a good head taller than his dad was with lanky arms and legs and a boxy head. He had a head of wild and scraggly brown hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in weeks but surprisingly his face was rather clean shaven. Unlike some of the other people Ben had seen in this alleyway through their shop windows, the man had no penchant for wizarding attire and was instead dressed like a Muggle in a pair of worn black jeans and an old faded Parselmouths band shirt. "No need for that, lad. Ha, I just enjoy scaring the unsuspecting I suppose."

"Do… Are you the owner of this shop?" Ben asked after calming back down, looking around once more.

"Aye indeed I am. I am Chessur… and this," He spoke, gesturing around him with a flair that reminded Ben of one of the performers at the circus his parents had taken him to last year. "This is my humble little abode. The rock of my tranquility from whence I escape from normality as it were. And who might you be?"

"Ascher, sir. Ben Ascher."

"Sir is a title for a knight; which is of course not to be confused with a night and certainly not a nite. At any rate, it is a title which I am certainly not qualified for. Chessur's the only name which I answer to. So what brings you into the hole in the wall that I have carved out for myself?" Once again the man called Chessur bent forward, peering at the boy with extreme curiosity. To Ben he was as just downright weird as the sign he had hanging over the entrance to his shop. The boy honestly didn't know whether to run screaming from the store on the off-chance he was some sort of psychopath or just to stand there and socialize for a few minutes. However, for some reason he just didn't feel like leaving and heading back to his parents at that moment so he just stayed his feet.

"I-I was just exploring, si… Chessur."

"Ah yes the curiosities of the young mind, always exploring whatever they might find. Never satisified, never indeed." Chessur moved through the room, taking his eyes off Ben for a moment as he reached into the snake's cage to pet it before turning back to the boy. Ben was astounded at how the snake seemed to move under Chessur's fingers without an ounce of hesitation like it was perfectly at home with the wizard's touch.

"It is quite an interesting place." Ben responded as he once more looked around the room. He was relaxing a little now around the unusual mister Chessur.

"Yes it truly is. Although for a first-year such as yourself the whole world would look as equally intriguing I do imagine."

"How did you-?"

"How did I know? You have the look about you young man, the inquisitive gaze of all Salem first years who have not grown accustomed to the world of magic. Well then, let me tell you a little about this place. I have items from all walks, strolls, saunters and gallops of magic. Anything a wizard or witch might desire I can find if you inquire… Though I do believe your inquisitiveness may have already found a port from its most current storm." As though the odd lanky man had read his thoughts Chessur moved over to the right wall and the shelf where the hypnotizing feather sat. Picking up the bottle he carefully walked over and held it out in front of Ben, taking supreme care in the handling of the feather as though the slightest jostle could cause its destruction inside its little container.

"What is it, if you don't mind me asking?" Ben inquired simply.

"A fine question for you to ask. So I'll endeavor to rise to this task. This is a feather from an ebon phoenix. Like their closer relatives, these marvelous birds die and are reborn near infinitum. Yet unlike their shining orange cousins who are entirely consumed when they burn, occasionally a feather will survive molting from an ebon. This one, as coincidence would have it, came from the familiar of one of the founders of Salem."

"Amazing…" Ben murmured, once again staring at the feather as though it was the only thing in the room.

"Would you like it then, my new friend Ben?" The hazel-eyed man called Chessur asked, pulling the feather and its bottle away to break his staring contest with it.

Ben didn't know how much such a thing would cost but it was undoubtedly worth more than the meager bit of pocket change he had left over from the cup of juice he had bought earlier in Caffeinated Magic. And though he was no by means a pessimist there was something inside him that told him that no amount of begging and pleading by him to his parents would convince either of them to buy such a thing for him. If anything he would probably get in trouble for having come down to the darker part of Edea's Landing and winding up in a shop such as this. His father especially would have had a problem with it considering that the Ascher patriarch was an Auror. "No sir… sorry, Chessur. I don't think my parents would really consider it something they should buy for me."

"Well then indeed they shant. However, this feather has waited quite long enough to return to its home." He said as he turned away from the young eleven year old and quickly moved behind the counter where his register and snake cage sat. As he set the bottle down on the counter he quickly reached beneath it and fiddled around for a moment before rising back up with a long cord of what looked like black leather. With the attention and fluidity of a master craftsman he carefully laid the cord out and then uncorked the bottle in which the feather hung before reaching in with his index and middle fingers and delicately pulling it out. As the edges of the feather bristled against the lip of the bottle the violet light from the feather seemed to flicker and pulse until it once again righted itself after having been removed. Still focused on his task, the scruffy-lookingChessur wordlessly took the quill of the feather and worked it into the leather, folding and tying each piece through one another until the ebon feather was linked completely in the center of the stretch of leather. Smiling his same characteristically broad smile, Chessur finally looked back up to the confused Ben as he held up the newly fastened pendant with pride. Without as much as a warning he just casually tossed the item over to the boy who thankfully caught it. "Consider it a gift, young Ascher boy. Remember though that it's no mere toy."

"T-thank you! "He asked, puzzled as he quickly tied it around his neck. Ben felt a strange sort of warmth emanating from the black feather, a radiant heat that reached through his shirt to the bare skin of his chest underneath. It wasn't an uncomfortable burn but rather something mysteriously soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold night. "But why?"

"A fair question asked yet not to be returned. Not everything now known, rather one day learned." Chessur replied, gesturing grandly again.

"Umm… what does that mean?"

"A boy who prefers to speak plainly. Ha, always a child's honesty;" With those words the chestnut-haired wizard shook his head and flashed his same toothy grin. Pushing back a lock of his scraggly hair he leaned forward once more to Ben and replied, "That means that you'll have to wait and see. I think it will be of use to you though so do try to take care of it. Now, I do suggest that you run along."

"Yes sir. Thank you again." Ben responded once more, his hand moving to the door behind him.

"Oh and one more thing, young Ascher. Until our paths again meet, with that feather please be discreet." Chessur finished, eliciting a nod from Ben who carefully tucked it under his shirt. As it touched his skin the feather's glow seemed to diminish until it was unnoticeable beneath the clothing. Seeing the change, Chessur nodded and watched as the boy disappeared from his shop.

As the door closed behind Ben, there was the tiniest little popping noise from the back of the shop, his private quarters in the place. Stepping past his counter he pushed aside the thick crimson curtain and moved into his private living room and towards the source of the noise. Except for the worn couch, long coffee-table and old painting along the wall the room was as empty as ever save for one little change. Upon the table now sat a dark red bottle of wine, an almost blood-colored cabernet bottle with a silver goblet next to it that looked like it had been carved ages ago and yet somehow still looked brand new. Beneath the bottle set a single piece of parchment with a few word casually written on it in an almost unreadable scribble of cursive. As he set down on the couch, he casually pulled the note from underneath the bottle of cabernet while pulling his wand from his pocket and giving it a flick. While he turned his attention to the note the bottle rose up off the table and uncorked itself before pouring a generous portion of its contents into the glass next to it. With a softer smile than what the boy had seen, he silently read the four little words written on the note "Good work my friend" while the goblet moved on its own accord to his free hand.

Setting the note back, he turned his attention to the painting hung on the wall across from him. It was a portrait of a well-kept looking wizard with striking charcoal gray hair and intense red eyes that watched Chessur like a hawk watches a field mouse. Next to the wizard on a small perch set a bird with the same radiant black feathers as the one he had just given to the Ascher boy.

Lifting the goblet towards the portrait, he toasted the silent watcher with a deep respect as he leaned back fully on the couch and relaxed. "To you, old chap." At those four words the man in the painting genially nodded back as Chessur's gaze moved to the small plaque that ran at the bottom of the portrait's frame. It said simply 'Kaim Farcorte, One of the Three'.

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><p>Author's Note: Here we are, part 1 of 2. Tell me what you think :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Doctor Calgori's Wandarium

Author's Note: Well I'm back now with the second half of the Edea's Landing part of the story. I just have to say that it feels really good to write again, this is the first story I've worked on in quite a while. Now for a bit of a confession from yours truly: when I'm writing I use a pretty weird font I found on called Blackadder itc because it looks like what you might find on a scroll in HP, helping me to get in the mood. In addition I like to write while listening to some weird dubstep mixes on the youtubernet for ambiance. Anyways, tell me what you think of it so far when you're done. Peace.

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><p>Chapter 3: Dr. Calgori's Wandarium<p>

July 22nd, 2010

Edea's Landing – 11:30 a.m.

_**'I'm late!**_''Ben ran quickly down the alleyway the same way he had come in as he once again checked his watch, heading to the bookstore called Scribbled where he was supposed to have met up with his parents more than fifteen minutes earlier. His father would not have minded him being this tardy, after all the leader of the Ascher family seemed to understand his son's penchant for exploring and rather wide-eyed desire to get to know the much wider world he was about to step into at Salem. His mother however, that was an entirely different story. By now, she would be worried and be willing to give him an earful the second he stepped within earshot. The boy had his important new possession tucked securely under his shirt where his parents would hopefully not see it. Although he had had fun meeting Mr. Chessur and still could not believe the man's generosity in giving him something like the feather around his neck without a price he did however think that his parents would have been a little less than accepting of that fact so for now at least he wanted to keep it quiet.

Stepping out onto Centra Avenue Ben found himself surrounded by a remarkably heavy crowd of comers and goers that had seemed to just appear out of nowhere since he had first stepped off the cobblestone street and down Kazas Alleyway. It seemed like all of the families that had planned for their own trip to Edea's today had personally waited until the moment when he **had** to get somewhere to get into his way. Gritting his teeth, he just pushed on through the crowd and ran like a thief at market.

A few minutes later he had thoroughly exhausted himself but finally made it to the wide glass doors that led into the rather ancient bookstore. Much to his chagrin his mother and father were right inside the doorway and looking out, his petite British mother standing there with her slender arms crossed over her chest and an intense glare frozen in her rather frightening dark eyes. His father meanwhile just stood there holding a small cauldron full of what he presumed were his schoolbooks with an almost pained on his face… the elder Ascher male knew what was about to happen and felt a strong sense of pity for his son after all even if he wasn't dumb enough to try to intervene and save the boy from his wife's wrath. Though he did love the boy Celeste Ascher was at times a volcano when she got mad at something or someone and he didn't want to get burned. Gulping almost audibly Ben reached for the handle of the door and pulled it open, bracing himself for the human-bodied Howler that was about to hit his ears.

"Uh… hi;" He said as nonchalantly as possible as he stepped inside the bookstore. It was crowded already, a good sign. _'__**Hopefully she won't want to make a scene…'**_

"Hi?" Her tone said it all already. The color drained out of Ben's face as she left his father's side and strode up to him until she was mere inches away. "You're nearly thirty minutes late and all you have to say is hi? Remind me, did I or did I not give you a specific time that you were supposed to be standing in this store by or was that something I just think I did?"

"Y-yes you did. And I tried to…"Ben quickly shot his dad a glance as his hair shifted red to match his burning cheeks.

The eleven-year old was already starting to squirm under his mom's gaze and the only thing that could rescue him right now was an intervention by his father… the only question was whether or not the man would rise to the occasion. With a nod of understanding the man valiantly shifted and put his hand out on his tense wife's shoulder in an effort to calm her wrath long enough to get them moving out of the store. "Of course you did, Ben. Your mom was just worried… you never know what kind of crazies you might find in this town so just try to be careful next time; okay kiddo?" Ben quickly nodded, his mind quietly going back to the memory of Chessur at the mention of the word 'crazies'. There was no doubt that there was something different about that man but whether or not he was crazy was not something Ben could decide after only their short interaction a little while earlier. With a thankful sigh he watched as his mother unfolded her arms and sighed, apparently having given up on ripping him a new sphincter for now. As she did, Anthony took her hand and began to lead her to the door after handing Ben the small cauldron full of books. "There now, let's go get down to Percipient Witch and get you measured for your robes and then we'll go get your wand. Sound good to you?"

"Yes sir." He replied, his father secretly shooting the boy a wink from over his wife's head.

They made their way out of the store and carefully down Centra Avenue, Ben sticking carefully to his dad's side while his mother remained on the other arm of the Ascher patriarch. Inside the cauldron that his dad had given him were all the books that had been on his required supply list as a first year as well as a few others that his parents had picked out: 'Odd Spells for Beginners' by Richard the warlock, Cale Vatay's'The Honorable Wizard', and a book or two on Salem itself. When he got home he was already planning on what he was going to read after he got his wand and could possibly try some of the easier material. The thought excited him immensely.

"Here we are; the Percipient Witch robe shop." His father announced as they reached a newer looking building with large windows and a flashy red paint covering its exterior.

Walking inside the three were greeted with an empty reception room with a few small couches with only one occupant – an older looking black woman – and a small counter that Ben was just barely tall enough to peer over without having to rise up to his tip-toes that was manned by a rather bored looking witch behind. Besides that, there was a wall that led back to the fitting area so that those who came could be measured in private. The witch sat there staring at a scroll of parchment in her hand that was covered on both sides with all sorts of illegible writing all over that Ben couldn't make heads or tails of while quietly munching on a liquorish wand. She was maybe a few years older than him, which he could only figure meant that she was just a family member or something working for the store's actual tailor. Without even glancing up from her scroll she flatly just muttered, "Welcome to the Percipient Witch. May I have the child's name and year?"

His mother hastily responded with both which the uninterested girl scribbled down onto her scroll with the same chicken scratch. "Mom, one first year boy."

"No problem Lisa, send him on back;" A voice from behind the wall that led to the other part of the store called back.

"You heard her." The girl named Lisa replied as she finally looked up from the scroll with an entirely disinterested gaze, gesturing at Ben with her candy wand and then pointing at the door. "The two of you can wait here."

Ben nodded and quickly went through the door as his parents took the couch across from the other waiting parent in the waiting room. Behind the wall was a large open space with a few booths with mirrors around the front and a few fitting rooms between. There were two older women in the room, one attending to a kid that must have been the son of the woman waiting out front and another waiting patiently beside an empty stand next to him. Ben quickly walked to her, figuring that she was one that was going to be fitting him for the day. Once he was in position she carefully went to work, positioning his body how she needed it to get all the measurements properly before draping a rather large school robe on his shoulders.

"Jeez this is crazy." The voice of the boy on the measuring stand next to his murmured rather nonchalantly as he turned his head to look at Ben a little easier while the women each pinned and measured their work.

"What is?" Ben asked, intrigued by the young boy. He was a few inches taller than Ben but looked relatively about the same age with dark mocha-colored skin and warm brown eyes that looked sideways at Ben as they stood there. He was dressed rather plainly compared to some of the people Ben had seen throughout the day, his dark jeans and short-sleeve blue button up making him seem decidedly normal when compared to the insanity that was some of the people who lived in the town or ran one of its many shops.

"All of this. I mean come on, I actually passed by a flower shop coming over here that looked like the little shop of horrors and now I'm getting fitted for – if I read the sign outside right – robes. I always thought this kind of thing was fake, like the kind of stuff you'd see in a movie or something but then that letter came back in June and all this… craziness began." He replied honestly, casting one more cautious glance around the room as though he were waiting for the walls to cave in at any moment. Ben understood then, realizing what the boy was talking about.

"You're a muggle-born?" Ben asked with a smile. This was the first time he had met a muggle-born wizard that wasn't one of the few from his dad's office at the OMA that had come over once or twice. It was exciting to him; the boy was about his age after all.

"What's a muggle-born?" The boy inquired puzzled.

Ben flushed, realizing that he was using a term that someone like the boy wouldn't have understood "Oh sorry, forgot that you probably wouldn't know what I was talking about if you were. A muggle is someone without magical ability;" He explained to the mocha-skinned boy as the tailor lifted his arms out to measure them. The witch that was taking his measurements was yanking him around like a ragdoll so he had to fight to keep his balance as he stood there but at least he had someone to talk to during what would presumably be a boring time otherwise.

"Oh then… yeah I suppose I am a… what'd you call it, a muggle-born?" He responded eliciting a nod from Ben as his tailor held his arms out like a marionette, chatting happily with the witch tending to Ben.

"Cool. I'm Ben by the way;" Ben spoke, carefully straightening his hand for a moment to try and shake the boy's outstretched left.

"David. David James, but my friends call me DJ… though I don't think any of them will be going to this school or whatever it is." DJ spoke as he fumbled at shaking Ben's hand while keeping his own straight for tailor.

"It's an academy, kind of like a boarding school for people like us. If you want, I could tell you a little about it."

"That'd be great. I've been wondering what it really is ever since that letter came. And heaven knows my moms is worried about me going off to some unheard of place where I'm supposed to learn magic of all things. She actually thought it was some set-up by some psycho until those two guys from that agency showed up and turned our couch into a bulldog and then back again." He explained, making Ben chuckle. The young Ascher boy could just imagine one of the guys from the OMA's Muggle Integration department popping up in some quaint residential area to do a little show and tell for some poor unsuspecting muggle. Ben could imagine them scaring the woman on the couch in the front room half to death by some wild display of what a wizard could do. The Salem acceptance letter was one thing but real proof was entirely different matter. "That seemed to do the trick though."

"Yeah those guys are from the OMA – the Office of Magic Affairs; it's kind of like our version of government rolled into one. My dad's actually an Auror for them…er, kind of like a wizard police officer. So what would you like to know about Salem?"

"Anything you know." DJ responded honestly.

"Well it was founded like right after the Revolution by three people: Kaim Farcorte, Antares Arasilk, and Eilis Gentovox. There are three houses named after each one of those three in the school, kind of like teams from what dad told me. Outside of that… well I don't really know." He answered as best as he could. The elder Ascher male had told him a few details about the castle and he had enough of an idea what they were going to be learning when they got there but outside of that he really had no idea what was in store for him once he reached Salem's gates. His father had tried not to tell him too much; he wanted Ben to have less preconceived notions about the place before he left for it or so Anthony had said. But on the bright side he had grown up with two magic users for parents so the strangeness of the wizarding world was normality for him now. "Dad's always said it's a place you have to see for yourself to really understand."

"Seeing this place, I can believe it."

Ben nodded, remembering how he had felt when his mom had first taken him out here to Edea's Landing back when he was five. Without thinking about it he fidgeted where he stood, turning just enough at just the right time. "Ouch!" He exclaimed as the woman tending to his robe measurements accidentally pricked him in the side with one of her sewing needles.

"Sorry dear; but if you wouldn't squirm around so much that wouldn't happen," Ben frowned as he fought the urge to rub the area and turned his attention back to the mirror in front of him. He hadn't noticed it since he stepped in front of it, having been more absorbed by the short conversation he was having with DJ so he hadn't noticed that his hair was now a deep shade of reddish orange and curled around his head much like the girl he had seen back in Caffeinated Magic earlier in the morning. Frowning a little more as he wondered how long it had been like that, he concentrated and pictured his true looks. On command his hair straightened back out as though it were being combed instantly while it shifted back to its natural sandy blonde. "Almost done now."

"W-what is up with your hair man?" DJ asked incredulously, having just witnessed his obviously ridiculous little transformation.

"Huh? Oh that. That's an ability I inherited from my granddad called… you know what, the name's a bit of a mouthful. Long story short I can change the way I look pretty easily and kind of wildly;" Ben answered. Figuring it would just be easier to show DJ then explain it any further Ben just focused and forced his eyes to change instead of his hair this time. Immediately his pupils began to go from their normal green to a deep blue then purple and black and then onto a gray followed by almost stark white. When he finally stopped the color wheel they were a rose red that he thought made him look like some sort of disturbed little beast.

"Wow! That's amazing!" DJ exclaimed. "Can you like… become a whole different person or something?"

Ben fought the urge to shrug as the woman was still digging through the folds of his robe with more than a few sewing needles. "You know? I honestly don't know. Mom says that granddad used to do a lot of weird things with it but he died before I was born so I just know how to do what I've kind of discovered on my own."

"Oh…Sorry about your grandfather."

"Don't be. I never even met him though mom's told me plenty of stories about her family back in Britain."

"So there's other people like… us… in other parts of the world then?"

"All over the place." Ben replied.

DJ's eyes went wide for a second and he stared off before looking back at him, his expression about normal. Ben didn't know how long it had been since the cocoa-skinned boy met the escorts from the OMA but he was already acting at least receptive of the brave new world he was about to enter into with Ben and a good number of other children. He seemed like he was simply at peace with all of it. "I guess that makes sense. My moms always talks about the world being much smaller than people make it out to be so it makes sense there'd be... you know something? I don't even know what the proper term is. Magic man?"

Ben laughed openly, earning a quick yank from the seamstress as she pulled him back into position. "Hah, sounds a bit like a superhero. No they just call guys wizards and girls witches. So that's your mom out front?"

"Yeah that's my moms; she's raised me by herself since I was six."

"What happened when you were six?" Ben inquired honestly.

"…It doesn't matter." DJ reluctantly responded. Ben just accepted it; if he didn't want to talk about his past that was his right as they _had_ only just met. It wasn't the Ascher boy's business.

"Okay then. So where are you from?"

"Baltimore, my mom's a doctor and teacher at Johns Hopkins. You?"

"I'm from Olympia, Washington."

"There we go Mr. James; all fit and ready to go," Spoke the woman that had been fitting DJ as she stepped back from him and carefully took the black robe from his shoulders and hung it back up with a delicate touch to ensure the pins stayed where she had set them. "Tell your mother that your basic Salem uniform will be delivered later this week and everything else will be waiting for you at Salem after your sorting."

"Sorting?"

"Remember how I told you there were three founders?" Ben interjected at the boy's puzzled expression. "Well the students are divided into one of three houses named after one of the founders. It's basically your dorm for the seven years you're at Salem."

"Huh. Sounds sweet. Well then, here's to hoping we end up in the same house. Nice meeting you Ben." DJ finished as he extended his hand to give Ben a proper handshake now that he was about to leave.

"You too. Ouch!" Once again his turning caused the tailor to drive a pin into his skewered flesh.

"Stop moving!"

(I)

An hour later Ben and his parents had left Percipient Witch and had a quick bite for lunch but now it was the time that Ben had patiently been waiting for since the first moment that he had stepped out of the fireplace at Morgana Le Fay's earlier this morning. They were finally on their way down to Dr. Calgori's Wandarium. It sat right in the middle of Centra Avenue, nestled between Icarus Quills and the main office of the Wizarding Times – the main newspaper for the magical community in America. It was easily one of the oldest if not the oldest building in Edea's Landing, still having the well-aged dark oak door and window frame that had been crafted by the first owner of the building back when the town was founded. The name 'Calgori' sat above the dark blue wood door having been painted into the brown doorframe in worn and chipping gold paint.

Stepping inside they found the shop to be dusty and stuffy, lit by candlelight and the sunshine that came streaming in from the windows outside. There was just a simple wooden counter at the front with a quiet, immensely wrinkled little man sitting at it, peering down at what looked like an old cracked oak wand through a pair of spectacles with the utmost concentration as he moved over it with a pair of delicate-looking tools Ben had never seen before presumably to repair it. If he had seen them out of the corners of his eyes he made no indication of it and instead just remained focused on his work. Behind him stood ten rows of shelves carved out of the same kind of wood as his shop's counter and the paneling on the walls, each one stretching to the back of the store and standing nearly as high as the ceiling. Each row was filled with little graying boxes that must have housed innumerable wands, thousands upon thousands of them all filed away in the maze of boxes behind him.

"Ahem." His mom alerted after a moment of them standing there silently.

Finally the small man looked up, his half-open eyes darting to each of their faces quickly from beneath his bushy white eyebrows. He seemed a bit put off at their interruption or so Ben thought. "Oh, pardon me. Can I help you?" He asked, carefully setting down the delicate metal instruments in his hand next to the cracked wand in front of him.

"Hello Dr. Calgori; you probably don't remember me…" Anthony began.

"Of course I do mister willow, twelve and six-sevenths inches, phoenix feather core." The old doctor immediately interjected. Ben watched as the color rose on his father's face at the seemingly pointed statement. "The woman though I don't remember. Possibly because I can smell the special wax that Ollivander's produces from here on her wand but that's rather beside the point."

"O-kay… well we're here so my son Ben can find a wand." His father continued after a moment of awkward silence.

"Really? I assumed it was because of the scintillating conversation;" The doctor once again quipped rather stand-offishly. Anthony's face just went even more scarlet, much to his wife's chagrin and his son's silent amusement. Ben found himself fighting the urge to crack a smile at this apparently misanthropic ancient. He was being rude, there was no question about that, but he was at least honest and open about it which Ben found honestly kind of fun. After a moment of them standing there wondering what to do, Doctor Calgori finally looked down at him and sized him up for a second before finally saying, "Come on behind the counter, young man. We'll see what might work for you."

Stepping behind the counter, Ben was rather surprised to see Doctor Calgori sitting on a remarkably high stool. The wry old white-haired man was actually a few inches shorter than Ben and walked with the tiniest little knotted cane, his footsteps small and hobbled after what Ben could only guess had been decades of a long life. He had stark white hair, so aged that there was not an ounce of gray left in but rather just snow white all over. It was a bushy mess all around his head and even extended to his eyebrows and a thick beard that covered the bottom half of his face making him look like some sort of twistedly ancient wolf-man in spectacles. With a wave of his hand he motioned for Ben to follow him as he turned and headed down on of the aisles.

"So what is your name, young man?" He asked after a moment while his eyes darted back and forth to the boxes on the shelves. Ben could see a little card with some strange writing on it upon the visible end of each box but couldn't even make out the ones eye level with him on either side though the old man seemed to not even have the tiniest problem reading any of them as he muttered out the titles to himself.

"Benjamin, sir." Ben hastily responded, trying to act courteous.

The doctor nodded before giving his miniscule cane a swift upward flick. As though pulled out by an invisible string, one of the wand boxes near the top of the shelf to Calgori's right pulled itself out from underneath another box and fell into his open hand. "Benjamin Ascher then. Very well, listen carefully to what I am about to tell you;" He spoke with a level of what almost felt like mysticism as he turned and face Ben with the box. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed down as he stared at the wand box in hand before finally looking back up to the boy. "When I hand you a wand I want you to hold it out in front of you and visualize sparks shooting from the tip of it. Concentrate on that picture inside your head, focus on it intently; do you understand?

Benjamin nodded quickly. "Good." With that he finally handed the boy the wand in his hand, his hands moving delicately. "Holly, dragon heartstring, 10 inches… This could work, give it a shot."

Ben took the short length of holly with the same measure of awe that the good doctor presented it to him with. It didn't feel special to him like he thought a wand would, it didn't have that kind of… spark that his dad had described when he had told Ben about the first time he had held a wand. Instead, it just felt like a simple carved stick in his right hand, as though he were a regular Muggle boy playing with it. Focusing with all his concentration he began to picture sparks rocketing off from the tip of the wand like a firework but he could not feel a thing. His grip tightened on it until it felt like he would snap the thing in half out of sheer force. "Uh… Urgh!"

"Stop, stop, stop. Good heavens boy you're turning blue. You need to remember to breathe next time otherwise you'll end up passing out. Alright?" Once again Ben quickly nodded as Calgori took the wand back from him and replaced within its little box. "Well that one's obviously not for you. Moving along then."

They moved up and down a few more aisles, the doctor occasionally taking a moment or two to read one of the labels on the nondescript wand boxes before shaking his head and moving on down the row. Ben was intrigued by this man; he seemed so sure of his knowledge on what Ben needed in a wand and how that translated to the contents of each little box. "Umm?"

"Have something to ask young man?" Calgori inquired as though anticipating his question.

"Yessir, how did you learn about wands? Like, how can you tell what kind of wand someone needs?" Ben asked honestly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Great question… and one that would take far too long to explain today." "Tell you what though; if you're so interested in the subject when you get to your second year I believe that Salem has a class on wandology. Should your interest on wands last until that long, you should enroll in it. Anything else, m'boy?" Ben thought for a moment as the doctor looked to another box about halfway up the aisle between the floor and ceiling. Once again he just twisted his cane slightly and the box he was interested in extracted itself instantly and floated down to his outstretched hand. "Err… why do they call you Doctor Calgori?"

"Now there is a question I can answer. Simply put, I have a doctorate in the very same field of study as the one I just recommended to you." Calgori replied, pulling the top of the wand box before handing the wand to his young customer.

"Walnut, thirteen inches with a phoenix feather core." Once again Ben repeated the same mental process as he had before with the previous wand but once again there wasn't even the tiniest flicker of light from the tip of the walnut stick. After a minute he simply handed it back to the doctor. "No not that one either. Cherry possibly for the make then?" The pair went down three more aisles, the white-haired wandsmith handing him wand after wand that he thought might be a good fit while Ben utterly failed to light the tip with a single spark. Time and time again he pulled a fresh box out only to have to place it back a minute later as none of the wands seemed to take to Ben with the littlest bit of interest. Finally after his ninth different instrument, Ben just frowned a little and sighed.

"These don't seem to be working at all;" The boy murmured as the doctor removed one more box for him.

"Try this then. Blackthorn, twelve and one-third inches…" Once again he took the wand presented to him and concentrated. And once again, not a thing. "Mr. Ascher you have a rather rare distinction of being one of the more unreadable children that I have in my store in the last few years. That is truly an uncommon trait."

Ben shook his head in disappointment, choosing not to voice his feelings on this. He wondered silently if it wasn't a problem with him and not the wands that was causing such continual failure of the magically crafted instruments. Unconsciously his eyes shifted to a deep black to reflect his waning good mood, something the good doctor took notice of. "Wait a second; ah yes of course it all makes sense. You're a metamorph…" Ben focused back on him when he said that, murmuring a quick 'yes sir' while silently wondering what that had to do with anything. "Fantastic. It could possibly mean..." Quickly the doctor moved to a box about eye level with the two of them and pulled it from its spot on the shelf." Elm, ten and three-fourths inches with unicorn tail hair. Give it a try."

With an exasperated sigh Ben took the wand from the box. Unlike the others though, this one felt drastically different. The sensation of it against the skin of his hand sent an electric shockwave from his hair to his toes. This was what his father had talked about. Concentrating again, he watched as a small burst of sparks emanated from the end quickly before falling to the ground in front of his feet and dying as quickly as they had appeared. "Wow."

Calgori smiled a big toothy grin from beneath his wild white beard as he held his hand out for Ben to return the wand to him. Ben returned the smile, happy at the fact that they were finally apparently achieving some sort of real result. As he replaced the box, the doctor just murmured aloud; "Yes… much closer this time. But you need something a little more supple, possibly yew. Yes, yes yew which could mean…Wait right here for a moment, young man. I believe I have just the wand for you after all." Immediately he hobbled off with his cane in hand, moving surprisingly fast for such an old man as he disappeared around the end of the aisle and out of sight. Ben silently wondered what he was going to come back with as he stood there and shifted his eyes to a golden yellow that matched his hair. After a few moments the doctor finally returned, holding a rather worn old wand box that he had already removed the top of. Inside was a rather long slightly curved wand made of the most peculiar white-colored wood. Unlike most of the other wands that Calgori had offered him this tool had had a rather ornate looking handle carved into it with the tiniest four letters etched into the grip so small that he could only just make out what they said. They read M. C. H. C.' It was strangely beautiful and sent a shiver of excitement down his spine just looking at it. "Here try this. Yew, chimera's tooth for the core, twelve and one-fourths inches. Very flexible."

With the utmost of care Ben took it from the open box and held it out in front of him, the image of sparks once again filling his mind. Again the extraordinary sensation rippled through his young body, this time so much stronger than he could imagine.

Instantly a shower began to shoot off, a cascading rocket of sparks in every color imaginable like a rainbow of flickering light. They shot in burst after burst from the tip of the wand in his hand in such force that it looked like fireworks igniting within the aisle. Calgori just looked on at the scene for a few seconds, satisfied at long last by the proper result before finally speaking up. "Alright, that's enough. We don't need you to set my store ablaze. Well it looks like we have a winner; how does it feel Mr. Ascher?"

"Perfect sir!" Ben nearly squeaked, beaming at the old wand maker.

"Good. Then treasure it." Calgori finished, giving the boy a curt nod as he turned and ran off back to his parents, clutching the wand as though his grip on it was keeping him alive. He stood there for a moment alone, thinking to himself. "Very interesting. Three wands all forged from teeth of the same chimera, a rarity. And all sold to first years this year. What might the odds of that be I wonder?"

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><p>Author's Note: Okay, there's chapter 3 for you. Hope you enjoyed. Anyways, tell me what you think . Ciao!<p> 


	4. Interim 1: Joker

Author's Note: Throughout the story there will be a few interim chapters to tell a bit of a side-story of events happening during the course of the main story. This is the first of them and they'll help to fill in a little more of what's going on outside of Salem's walls during the story. Enjoy.

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><p>Interim 1: Joker<p>

August 18th, 2010

Her steps were lithe and silent as she moved across the time-worn stone in the hall. All along the ancient stone walls the torches burned with strange blue fire, bathing her in eerie shadows as she made her way down to her destination. With a flowing black robe cloaking every part of her body save her horrid white mask she looked more akin to a wraith than anything even remotely resembling a human. This was not a woman, no; this was something else entirely.

Casting a sideways glance out of one of the old portholes that dotted the hallway she was in she could not help but feel rather cold as she caught sight of the tiniest sliver of a crescent moon trying vainly to light the smallest section of the courtyard. On dark nights such as these the cathedral seemed to take on a life of its own, the whole estate feeling like a hungry predator that waited patiently for them to relax for even a moment before it would strike. That was something though that she had in common with the cathedral; the wraith in the white mask had long since abandoned the calm and kind nature she had once held for something more suiting to her purpose. Making her way down one final hall she reached a large wooden door, a hidden door leading down into the true sanctuary room of this worn seat of catholic power that her associates and she called their home. Casting one more furtive glance from beneath her mask to the crescent moon, she just breathed deep and then pushed open the door.

"Good to see you have returned safely, Joker." Even in such placid, calm tones the voice was almost haunting in its seeming unnaturalness as it spoke to her, drawing her attention to the center of the room. Directly in the center of what was once the sanctuary sat four stone thrones, each one turned toward the others and about ten feet away from its opposite. Three of them were occupied, each one with a likewise masked and cloaked wizard or witch who had been patiently waiting for her. It was in the throne with its back to her that their leader sat. Not saying a word, she quickly crossed the room and took her seat at the throne to his right. She never spoke to him on nights like tonight; never spoke to any of them on nights like tonight. In time she would tell them of the night's activities and what she might have learned but for now she was quite content to remain silent in the same way she always had since she began doing his bidding. "Let us begin. Queen?"

"Regarding the castle, everything has been prepared as requested. As was anticipated we were not originally able to access it. However, after we broke the wards where needed, Jack was able to infiltrate." Spoke the one seated directly across from him, the other woman of the four of them. Joker did not like this woman, did not trust her for she had not truly seen the horrors and evils that Joker and the other two had. In her mind, the one known as Queen was nothing more than a liability but he had chosen to involve her in this so she was here. "The wards have since been resealed but can be broken easily once the time comes to strike."

With a curt nod he showed his approval before turning to the man on his left and directly across from Joker to allow him to tell his business. As the man stared at Joker from across the circle with his intense yellow eyes she could nearly feel the desire radiating from him. He was the only one who let his eyes be seen from beneath his mask, a sign of either his calloused lack of fear or a sign of his constant hubris, she was never quite sure which. However, after the events of this night were said and done she was sure they would have their time together. But for now… there was work to be done and that was the only thing that mattered. "We found the weapon. Our good friend in Edea's Landing had it and he was already expecting me. His knowledge and foresight of our actions is still rather impressive though I suppose we shouldn't be so surprised after what we have seen from him, old friend."

"Good; Jack. That is very good to hear." Hereplied, rising from the throne as hedrew the wand from the folds of his black robe and holding it out directly into the middle of the circle. She and the others followed suit, each of them instantly pulling their wands and putting holding them in front of themselves until the wood formed a perfect cross between the four of them. Finally she broke her gaze with Jack as the two of them and Queen all turned their attention to him, the man they followed without hesitation, the one they called King. "We shall each take our places soon but know that patience must be our only virtue. Too long have we waited to ruin the coming days by haste. When the time is right, we will destroy the enemy with the same hatred and fury that they have shown us over the years. Yes, when the time is right, we will strike and we will kill the enemy to the last. No mercy shall be given, no prisoner shall be taken." They nodded in unison, their hearts and minds sharing the same thought ashe spoke. "Utter destruction lies before those who would stand against us."

"Our kingdom come!" The four of them shouted in unison, their battlecry tearing through the cold night.

With those three words King once more took his seat, still holding onto his wand as the three of them likewise returned to their thrones. Once they had all returned to the thrones he finally looked to her, giving her a curt nod before twisting the wooden instrument as though he were conducting a symphony in the air above them. At the end of the sanctuary the massive wooden doors that led to the rest of the cathedral opened, revealing Joker's little addition to the night's meeting. Even in the pale flickering light from the blue flames one could see the man that stood in the doorway, his hands and feet bound in old blackened iron chains and his wand snapped and lying in two clear pieces at his feet. They could all see the way he shook and twitched, the way he held his arms in front of him to keep the weight off of the broken bones in each one, the thin trails of blood that led from his nose and jaw and disheveled shaggy hair. This was less than a man, nothing more than a badly beaten beast quivering in fear.

Not saying a word, King simply gave his wand another quick twist and the man began to stumble toward them, the look of horror on his face a clear sign that his shambling steps were not of his own accord.

Once the man stood directly in their circle of thrones, King lowered his wand and the man lowered to his knees still shaking violently from the savagery of his beating. For the longest moment the sanctuary was silent save for the man's quivering inhalations as King simply stared down at him before finally speaking. "Your name is Matthias Wilde, is it not?" The man remained silent but gave a nervous nod, utterly terrified to speak in the presence of the four masked ones. From between his red and gray mask, King's eyes flashed coldly as he stared down at the man. "Tell me, Mr. Wilde. Tell me why it is that you were brought here tonight?"

From the center of their circle the man shakily lifted his right hand, pointing with a shuddering finger at Joker. "That one… that m-m-monster brought me here after d-d-doing what you s-see to m-muh me…" His voice was broken and scared. Joker simply smiled beneath the white porcelain and black veil that covered her face, pleased with her work tonight.

"Do you know why?" King's question demanded the man's attention be turned back to him.

"N-no." He had barely spoken the word before King's wand was up again. With a simple whisper of the word 'Crucio', King brought Matthias down hard against the worn stone. She watched mesmerized as he writhed in agony at her feet for what seemed like an eternity before King finally withdrew his wand from the man's direction. Across from him, Queen simply shifted in her seat. Joker knew the untrustworthy one didn't have the stomach for this kind of thing but she kept her seat regardless, not so willing to interrupt King's judgment of the man by her departure. Joker had to commend her on that at least.

"Do not profane these halls with your lies again, Mr. Wilde. My patience is for the honest and my mercies for the just alone." King whispered as he brought the man back to his knees with another rise of his wand. "Now, why did Joker bring you before me? You do not want to remain silent this time."

"T-that f-f freak is a m-muh-mudblood sympathizer!" His words were impassioned and bold as he raged at King's feet, nothing more than an impotent fiend within the bonds.

"Is that so? I thought it was because Joker caught you in the house of two muggle-borns that you had just finished killing. I was under the impression she broke your legs for trying to run. That she broke your arms for laying a hand on the young woman's body after you killed her and her husband. That she snapped your wand for being so foolish so as to try and to defend yourself after being caught in your sin instead of offering yourself willingly to such judgment. I must be mistaken in my assumptions then." The man grew even more nervous as King spoke his truth, withering under the gaze of his four captors for the night. "Let me ask you, Mr. Wilde; do you detest the so-called mudbloods?"

"Y-y-yes sir. M-magic is f-f-f f-for the p-pure born only."

For the longest time King remained silent as he watched the man's eyes carefully from beneath his mask, carefully weighing whether or not this man was worth attempting to change or if he should end this little game of court that he was playing. Finally coming to a decision, he sat back in his seat and slipped his hands into the folds of his black robes. "Do you know what I detest, Mr. Wilde? I detest, I loathe you and your kind. Do you think that no one knows about the group that sent you to that family's house tonight, that **I **do not know about your little purist group 'Sanctius' and the men and women that dwell under its banner of murderous blood purity, the so-called Purifiers? I have always known! I have seen your actions and the actions of your comrades as you kill and destroy all in the name of magical purity. And I have already decided my judgment."

The man grew so very still at those words, King's fierce tongue seemingly giving him the gift of foresight in these last few seconds of his miserable life. With all of his remaining strength he rose back to his feet and stared down King with his one good remaining eye before opening his mouth one last time. "Your judgment?" A wicked fire burned behind his eyes now, a look of hatred blazing completely. "Four wizards and witches in Halloween masks taking on the army that will soon overrun this country? You are all deluded, arrogant fools. The Order Sanctius, we Purifiers, will wipe you from the face of the earth. Lord Tharus w-"

His body froze as little golden lines lit up his face. His face was a transfixed in horror as he seized and dropped to the ground dead. "How interesting. An Unbreakable Oath tied to the name." Jack muttered, looking to King for what he wanted to do regarding the dead Purifier. Even with the mask covering his face there was no mistaking or denying the pure rage that was pouring out of King's rigid frame at that moment. The blood purist, Matthias Wilde, lay in a heap at the foot of King's throne. The flicker was gone from his eyes, the soul from its fleshly prison. However; without so much as a second glance to the body, King rose up from his throne and stepped away. Looking across the circle he simply motioned for Queen to join him, the woman obeying the unspoken request immediately. As she took his outstretched hand, she glanced down for a split second at the body, a visible shudder running through her slender frame. King however just kept his gaze on her.

As they crossed the sanctuary King spoke six last words for Joker and Jack as they remained in their thrones, their eyes locked. "Do as you wish with him." From beneath her mask, Joker began to laugh.

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><p>Author's Note: There you go, the first of the few interim chapters.<p> 


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